make me feel alright
by simplysteffv
Summary: he comes to her in the dead of the night. /takes place some time after 2x03: broken dolls.
1. part one

**A/N: **Hi y'all. This is my second Arrow fic. I just want to say I love Laurel, she's my bb. This takes place some time after 2x03 Broken Dolls. I hope you all enjoy it!

**Disclaimer**: this is the work and play of fan fiction. i don't own anything. everything belongs to their respective owners.

* * *

**make me feel alright**

* * *

She's lying on her bed wide awake when he comes to her in the dead of the night.

Laurel is surprised at first. She can't place it in her mind why he would bother to visit her. After everything that she's done, why in the world would The Hood, no, Arrow come see her. A part of her thinks that since she sought vengeance against him, maybe he's here to do the same. She wouldn't blame him if he has, honestly.

She sits up and crosses her legs all the while watching him. He's standing in the farthest corner of her room. Enough moonlight filters through the window and her shades that he's not engulfed in complete darkness like he probably hoped he would be. Shadows dance over his form and she's a little enthralled by the vision he currently is. She wonders what he looks like under the hood, what his eyes are like. It would be a lie if she said she's never dreamed of them. And in her dreams, for some reason, they're green flecked with gold.

He's the first one to break the silence.

"How are you doing?"

She sighs deeply and closes her eyes. God, it's only a question but it's loaded, it almost makes her want to fall apart. In reality she doesn't know how she's doing, not really anyway. One moment she's fine, everything is great but then, next thing she knows there's an ache in her chest and it's suffocating. It's maddening and she doesn't really feel like talking about it. Least of all with him.

Her eyes flutter open.

"Why are you here?," she questions, ignoring his. "Why would you even think of coming here of all places? After everything."

There is still a bitter edge to her words and it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with her but, she doubts he has any clue. She won't justify it to him either.

Her question is met with silence. He's not saying anything. He's just standing there.

It is the longest minute she has experienced.

"Look-"

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright after what happened is all," he cuts her off.

She's a little shocked and quite frankly doesn't understand why he even cares. It's not like she's been the most courteous person towards him.

Laurel shakes her head a little.

"I don't understand why you care so much. I haven't exactly held you at highest of regards lately."

"I promised a friend I would look after you."

Her eyes widen and her breath catches. There's a heaviness settling in her chest. _Tommy._

She shuts her eyes tightly, fighting back tears. _One. Two. Three. _Laurel takes in a deep breath, composing herself; trying to easy the pain his words have caused.

It takes her only a minute to get it under control but it was enough for him to slip out. When she opens her eyes Laurel is alone again.

The curtains rustle slightly from a breeze coming in through her window. _It must've been how he got in_, she thinks.

Rubbing her eyes she lies back down and stares at the ceiling.

It doesn't take long for her to fall back asleep.

That night she dreams of green eyes flecked with gold.


	2. part two

**A/N: **So I basically incorporated some stuff that was introduced in 2x04 but it won't follow the show to a T. I don't know how long this story will be but it will be completed at some point. There's a lack of Oliver in this part but there's a reason. Hope you all enjoy this. No beta, all mistakes are my own. Thank you! :)

**Disclaimer**: this is the work and play of fan fiction. i don't own anything. everything belongs to their respective owners.

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**make me feel alright: part two**

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The first time she sees him, she laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs until her laughter turns into sobs. She's sprawled across the couch staring at his form. There's an empty bottle of wine forgotten on the floor, another half empty one standing on her coffee table and she's debating on whether or not to reach for it. She decides against it.

"It's my fault," she whispers turning her head to face the ceiling.

She can still see his silhouette from her peripheral. It's slightly blurry but she can still recognize him.

"I am _so _sorry," she weeps bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Wiping her tears away furiously she sits up and shifts her body to face him.

"Tommy, I-" she starts, but he's already gone.

With freshly shed tears rolling down her cheeks she grabs the wine glass and downs it like the answers she desperately needs are stored away at the bottom of it. They never are.

In the morning she'll wake with a killer headache and pretend like it never happened. But, tonight she'll take solace in the fact that he was here. If only for a moment, if it only was a dream. It's the closest and the farthest she has felt to him since he died.

"I miss you," she mumbles as her eyelids droop closed. She's sliding off the couch and landing on her side with a soft thud on the floor passed out drunk.

.

.

.

The second time she sees him she's working on opening her second bottle of wine. Laurel had gone to the kitchen for the corkscrew and when she had returned to the living room she found him standing in the same place she had encountered him or dreamt of the first time.

She takes a few meticulously slow paces into the living room taking a stand next to the couch; proud that she hadn't startled and dropped the corkscrew seeing him there. She can't believe that he's really there.

"Am I dreaming?" She asks and is met with silence.

Pale blue eyes are staring intently at her and Jesus, she's about to have a breakdown. _One. Two. Three. _It's hard to make out his features completely since the lights are dim but his baby blues shine brighter than she remembers them being. She's missed them, him.

With lips turning up into a watery smile she takes a step closer to him only for him to take one back.

"Tommy-" she frowns.

Laurel takes another step forward and he moves back again. Panic is building up inside her. _No._

"Wait, Tommy. Wa-" She rushes further ahead and by the time she reaches where he was standing, he's gone.

Turning, she runs towards the light switch and flicks it up. Now that the room is fully lit she takes a look around the living room, it's empty asides from her. With a deep sigh she moves to sit on the couch.

This is too much, she feels like she's going insane. She probably is insane because now she's imagining her dead ex-boyfriend. Or, maybe, he's haunting her. It was her fault he died after all.

"I deserve this," she mutters as she uncorks the bottle and pours herself a glass. "I deserve _this_."

.

.

.

The third time, it only took three glasses of wine and a few pills for him to show up. This time he's sitting next to her.

"Is this what I have to do to see you?"

She doesn't bother turning to look at him. She needs him to stay a while and maybe if she doesn't look at him directly he won't leave; maybe he can stay etched in the corners of her mind, he can linger in her peripheral. She still can't seem to let him go.

All she gets as a response is silence. It's getting damn tiresome.

"What the hell are you doing here then? What do you want?!" she asks furiously.

Nothing. She gets nothing.

"Christ, even dead you're freaking infuriation," she scolds, working on her fourth glass.

Laurel takes a sip, sits the glass on the table and leans further back into the couch; resting her head and closing her eyes. It's been hell of a day, work has been tougher than usual and she's still not speaking with her father. She hasn't seen or spoken to Oliver either and it seems that she has no friends anymore. She's alone. Well, sort of.

Opening her eyes she shifts her gaze to stare at him, really stare at him. He's all sad eyes, worried brows and downward tilted lips. _Great, he's disappointed._ She rolls her eyes and sits forward.

"You don't understand," she says softly, resting her elbows on her thighs. "How I feel… _What_ it feels like… the things I dreams. You're not here." She chokes out. "You're not here and it's my fault."

She buries her face in her hands, "I feel angry, and tired and sad and then…," she trails off leaning once again back into the couch, pulling up her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.

Staring straight ahead she begins to speak. "I feel empty but I'm suffocating at the same time. I can't explain it. I'm drowning, in my dreams I drown. I swim and swim and just when I can see and almost feel the surface something pulls me down. Other nights I dream of the Dollmaker, I can still smell the chemicals and feel the binds around my wrists and body. The sensation of the tube down my throat lingers. I die in my dreams. All I get out of them is that it should've been me. That night, at the Glades, it should've been me not you."

It doesn't surprise her to see that he's not there anymore.

A bottle and a few sleeping pills later she falls asleep.

.

.

.

The fourth time, it's bourbon and not enough pills.

She's at a bar and so Tommy doesn't show up. But, she swears as she's stumbling into a cab, she swears on everything she loves, seeing someone identical to Sara watching her from across the street. When she glances back, no one is there.

A bitter chuckle leaves her lips as she watches the street lights blur on by, _their ghosts live inside me. I deserve this. _Their ghosts have carved themselves a space in her mind.

The cab driver stops, she pays and gets out.

Once inside her apartment she goes on with her nightly routine and passes out.

She's completely oblivious to the two figures watching her from the rooftop of the neighboring building.

They're completely oblivious to the nightmares and ghosts that plague her mind.

.

.

.

The fifth time, Tommy never shows up.


End file.
